


Beer Buddies

by RosieTwiggs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTwiggs/pseuds/RosieTwiggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He claimed failing eyesight, and that she might as well shoot him now and put him out of his misery before he got any older and stopped being able to take a piss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beer Buddies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flutiebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutiebear/gifts).



> This was a prompt from flutiebear on tumblr after we both realized that Sheriff Jake Miller is legitimately the best person ever.

Beer with Jake has become one of Jody’s favorite things. Granted, it happens rarely enough, but the weekly phone-calls more than make up for it.

It’s been a long time since she’s felt like she had anyone to look up to, to take care of her. Her mother had died when she was sixteen and her father had been taken by cancer shortly after Sean had been born.

She’s always been perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but sometimes she misses that feeling – having a parent there to just listen, whenever she needs it.

Jake had been a godsend.  Bobby hadn’t been dead for more than a month when Jody got called in to attend a law-enforcement seminar in Chicago.

Jake had snagged the wrong name tag without realizing.  He’d apologized, laughing it off, and Jody had been struck by his sharp, sarcastic, almost dead-pan edge, softened by a friendly voice. He claimed failing eyesight, and that she might as well shoot him now and put him out of his misery before he got any older and stopped being able to take a piss.

They’d hit it off, somehow. He is twenty years older than her, from a completely different generation, but being sheriffs, and damned good ones at that, gives them something to bond over. And Jody thinks he might be lonely too – he might need her just as much as she needs him.

They meet  whenever they can, which isn’t often, but with the phone calls, it’s enough.

“So, sweetheart, what are you drinkin’ tonight?” a crotchety voice with a slight wheeze asks from her left. Jody turns, smiling brightly at the familiar site of that ridiculous handlebar mustache. She’s in Michigan, visiting cousins. A great chance to catch up.

“Same as always, Jake. Ordered you a Miller, too.” Jody laughs at Jake’s horrified face.

“I’m not drinking that piss, what’s wrong with you? It’s bad enough it’s got the same name as me!” He gestures to the barman. “PBR. And some new taste buds for this one here.” He nods at Jody.

“Well, old man,” Jody says as Jake settles in to the chair next to her, “Anything to tell?”

“Eh,” Jake breathes out, scratching his chin, and Jody’s not sure she likes the sound of that wheeze, but she lets it go, for now. “Nothing new, really. Same old. County’s quiet as a hooker with an STD for the most part. Though, we did have a weird one a few weeks back.”

The barman sets Jody’s beer in front of her and hands the PBR to Jake. She takes a sip, frowning. “Weird how?”

“Dead guy. Thought nothing weird there. Except his arms and legs were ripped clean off. One of the suspects up and _stepped_ in the bucket at the station afterwards too. Half his insides ended up on his outsides, which was _inside_ my damned interrogation room. Hell to clean that up, let me tell you. Nothing stains like blood. Had to have the whole room repainted.”

Jody shakes her head, suppressing a smile. Jake’s priorities are the best.

“Anyway. Never did figure out what happened, so… Though at least the FBI didn’t have any more luck than we did.”

“FBI? What was the FBI doing there?”

“Damned if I know.” Jake shrugs, chuckling. “Though it did seem weird. They showed up pretty fast for feds. Body wasn’t even cleared out yet.”

Jody tilts her head, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What were their names?”

Jake shrugs. “Rosewood and Taggart.”

Jody almost laughs. “Jake Miller!” she exclaims, smacking Jake on the arm. “Are you telling me that two feds walked on to your crime scene, gave you the names of two detectives from ‘Beverly Hills Cop’, and you didn’t think there was anything strange about that?!”

Jake takes a long pull of his beer. “Nope,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jody shakes her head, and now she is laughing, clutching her side, eyes streaming. “You’re lucky,” she finally gasps out, wiping at her eyes. “I think I know those two.”

Jake is grinning at her as she catches her breath, and for a while, they just drink, talking about small things, like old John Denver songs, and how pine smells in the snow, and recipes for spicy chili. It’s easy. With Jake it always is, and Jody smiles more than she has in the past month.

It’s over an hour and a half later, when the conversation slows and Jody falls suddenly silent. Her smile slips as she thinks back to ‘Rosewood and Taggart’ and something that’s been niggling at the back of her mind ever since.

“Well if you don’t look like someone just shot your pony dead, I ain’t fit to be sheriff,” Jake says, pushing the small bowl of peanuts towards her.

Jody shakes her head at the offer, trying to decide whether she should say what she’s thinking. But then, because Jody gives as many fucks about what someone might think as the man sitting next to her, she decides to give it a try.

“Jake,” she begins, watching condensation drip down the side of her fourth beer of the night. “What if I told you that there were things out there that you’d never imagined before? Things straight out of your nightmares?”

Jake looks confused. “What, you mean like two-headed cow fetuses? Cuz I saw one of those when I was about six at a carnival and it’s given me the heebie-jeebies ever since.”

Jody smiles, shaking her head. “You’re impossible old man,” she says, but it’s soft, like her eyes. “No,” she continues. “Like real monsters. The kind you used to tell each other about as kids around the campfire.”

Jake is quiet, brow furrowed in thought.

“I mean,” Jody continues, “those two feds? I think they were friends of mine, and that’s sort of what they do. And I’ve seen enough to know that- well, it’s not pretend, Jake. What would you say to that?”

Jake’s looking at the bottles above the bar, tapping his empty beer can. He’s on his sixth.

“You saying those feds actually might have found something after all? That the case ended up closed somehow?”

She nods. “Yeah, probably.”

Finally, Jake shrugs, turning back to Jody. His eyes are glinting and he smiles, all teeth and mustache bristles.

“Honestly then? I say thank fuck that ain’t in my jurisdiction.”

He signals for the bartender to bring him another beer and Jody thinks she will never be grateful enough for Sheriff Jake Miller.


End file.
